A Story of Epic and Perverse Proportions
by Megaroo
Summary: Bulma Briefs is sixteen and gorgeous. Oh yes indeedy. And she's in love with exchange student Vegeta. What oh what could ever possibly go wrong in THAT situation?


Bulma Briefs was sixteen and gorgeous. She wasn't the way you or I were when we were sixteen -- too much of the knees, not enough chest, all elbows, hair that never worked, and a nose that was slightly off-center according to every mirror ever made. Bulma Briefs was not like that, oh no. At sixteen Bulma Briefs had the body of a 25 year old. She had aged nine years some time in the summer that she grew out of being simply fifteen.

She was sixteen. Wa-hoo for her.

Of course, Bulma Briefs, other than being the only one of her friends able to successfully buy alcohol and enter clubs without ever being carded, also had the great luck of having a superior intellect. I mean, she was a genius. That's what I mean. Or at least that's what her parents told her when they removed her from school and set her to working on the next fusion bomb. Bulma Briefs -- the paragon of feminine physiology and intellectual prowess (that means she was pretty and smart) -- was not happy with this.

"But DADDY! I don't WANNA leave school! VEGETA'S at school!" She reasoned to her father as she attempted to change his mind about her future education.

"Bulma dear, you've already completed every class your high school has to offer; all you do there is flit around on that laptop computer you invented in between flirting will all the senior boys. Furthermore, Vegeta who?"

"VEGETA! The foreign exchange student from some other planet!! The one who looked at me for 3.5 whole seconds two weeks ago when I accidentally on purpose bumped into him in the hallway so that I could get a handful of his butt!! THAT ONE!! I can't leave school while there's still a chance he may be madly in love with me!!"

The author would like to take a moment to point out that this fanfic is, in fact, a parody. What you have just read was written with the intent to make fun of the character. There will be more sophisticated, dry, witty humor later on, rest assured.

Moving on...

Bulma whined, Dr. Briefs refused, Mrs. Briefs walked in and out of the scene at random intervals saying colloquialisms like, "Well isn't that nice" and "Oh, me too honey" and "Not if the force of gravity excesses the velocity multiplied by the mass, you know that, dear." All in all, it basically proved that there can sometimes be very little correlation between personality and actual intellligence. Case in point: Bulma Briefs. The sixteen year old genius who lusted after the mysterious Vegeta as a priest lusts after the second altar boy from the left. Yes, she was Capsule Corporation's secret weapon in their uber secret plan for taking over the planet. But she was also a twit.

She liked to think that made her more multi-faceted.

Meanwhile, as Bulma was screeching about the injustice of it all, Vegeta was sitting in his apartment on the other side of town, on the phone with his own pop.

"Father, I cannot stand to stay on this planet another minute! I don't care what you say about the educational benefits of an across-the-galaxy transfer student experience, I must leave here!"

"You're just homesick, son."

"I am NOT homesick, Father," the Saiyan Prince denied through clenched teeth. "I simply cannot put up with this planet's inhabitants any longer."

The king looked at his progeny with a special smile. "Girl problems, then, is it?"

"That stupid little Briefs twit will not leave me the hell alone!" He exclaimed, his simmering temper finally boiling over. "Every where I go, she's there! She touches me without my permission! She tells everyone that I am secretly in love with her! I wish for her and her entire species to be annihilated!"

"Oh. Well son, if mass genocide was what you were after, you could have just said so."

Vegeta stared at his father.

"I'll have our forces down there in twenty minutes for a complete razing. Those new-fangled Capsule Corp. ludicrous-space engines really cut down on travel time nowadays. But anyway, will that satisfy you?"

"Yes. Thank you." Vegeta hung up before the older man could hear the relieved tears in his voice.

So, popping ahead eighteen minutes: Vegeta was on his rooftop playing Solitaire to pass the time waiting for the spaceships to pick him up, and Bulma was moping in the backyard of her house. Right as she threw a rock into a decorative pond and wished for her parents to cease to be, a fleet of ships entered Earth's atmosphere and hung in the air exactly the way bricks don't. One of them then proceeded to land on her house, destroying the entire building and killing everyone inside.

Bulma threw another rock into the pond and wished that she could have Vegeta as hers for all time.

Then she screamed. To keep up appearances for the media, and all that. Unfortunately, to the sore disappointment of herself and the waste of those vocal chords, an army of super fighters flew out of the ships and began killing people. The reporters fireballed from all the hair products they used every day. The cameramen exploded. The cameras, crew equipment, and vans were all incinerated. It was a good moment for humanity.

Then everyone else was killed too, so no one really got a chance to celebrate.

Everyone else, that is, except Bulma Briefs. You see, Bulma Briefs was sixteen years old and gorgeous. You know the story.

So, luckily enough for Bulma, the king of the Saiyans came forth and was about to send her to the next dimension and all that, but spared her life instead. Not for her brains, oh no. Not for her personality -- which would not say much good for him. No, he spared her because Bulma Briefs was sixteen but had the body of a sex goddess. He took a whiff of her and, using his ultra-superior Saiyan senses, could tell she was a VIRGIN. The thought, "I wonder if there's something wrong with her" flew through his head, but was quickly followed by, "Well, she'll make a fine present for my son so he can recover from his experience with that annoying adolescent."

At this point Bulma had gotten tired of screaming, so she just stood in front of the Saiyan King and waited for a gruesome death. Said death, much to my chagrin -- I mean, her surprise -- never came. Instead, he held out his hand and said, "If you come with me, I shall let you be with my son Vegeta for all time."

Bulma fell into his arms, thanked the god of the little decorative pond that was now just a large scorch mark in the ground, and let herself be swept off into the prince's royal shipboard bedrooom.

Imagine Vegeta's surprise when, after thanking his father profusely for saving him from that epitome of hell known as high school starring Bulma Briefs -- "Thanks, Pop, I owe ya one" -- he entered his private chambers to find the root of all his miseries snuggled up in HIS sheets on HIS bed with HIS pillow and HIS Teddy Ruckspin.

Behold the power of the Super Saiyan.

Unfortunately, Vegeta had not eaten much that day, having spent both the breakfast and lunch periods at school hiding from Bulma in the men's bathroom on the third floor, so he soon used up all his energy and passed out.

When he awoke, he found himself nestled under the covers. That was okay. The fact that his shirt was off would probably have been allright, too, if it wasn't for the fact that there was a small hand stroking his chest. That, also, would, under normal circumstances, be perfectly acceptable. Except that the hand was attached to Bulma Briefs.

He flew out of the bed at lightning speed -- seriously, I timed it, it was pretty damn close -- and went to find his father on the main bridge.

Out of breath, he nevertheless gave in to the urge to roar as he pointed his hand the way he had come. "KING VEGETA! WHAT is that... that... that GIRL doing in my BEDROOM??"

Frowning, "What's the matter, son, don't like my present?"

"YOU?? YOU!! You... That... is BULMA! The stupid whore that's been stalking me for months! Is this some kind of joke??"

"Not intentionally, no, but now that I think about it, the irony is rather amusing. I shall have to have a good laugh at that at some point," the king replied, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. "Interesting how life works in such ways, isn't it?"

"INTERESTING?? That's all you can say, is it's INTERESTING??"

"Calm yourself, son, before you fulfill a prophesy or something. I've got to give you some bad news, anyhow."

Vegeta flopped down in the nearest chair in a typically teenager-ish move. "NOW what?"

"The council of elders has decided it's time for you to produce an heir. I've already drawn up the paperwork binding you two kids, so you're stuck with the girl. If you don't produce an heir within a year, the council will overthrow our monarchy."

"I don't care!"

"And if you don't get her pregnant by next week, I'll take away your video games until she IS, got that?"

"Fine, fine. You win. Just don't touch the X-box," Vegeta grumbled. "Well then it's a good thing I'm stuck with her, I've never had sex before, but she must know every position invented, and a few she came up with herself."

"Nope, she's a virgin," the king corrected.

"There must be something wrong with her," Vegeta mumbled, then asked, "So what do we do?"

"I've printed off some instructions for you from this place on the internet called . They're very detailed as far as I can tell. Considering your mother got me very, very drunk on our wedding night, I could be mistaken about the veracity of the material. But it sure got me aroused reading it, so it MUST be accurate!"

Then he handed the packet to his son and sent him to bed.

After a few minutes, the king stationed himself outside his son's closed door to make sure everything was going smoothly. A sampling of the things he heard:

"Ouch!"

"Are you sure that goes there?"

"And what was the point of that?"

"I don't think you're doing that right."

"I'm not feeling anything."

"Is this for real?"

"So what's supposed to break?"

"Oh, now that's just disgusting."

"What's on the next page?"

"Gah! What are you, a vampire?"

"That's what it says to do!"

At one point sometime later, Vegeta, wrapped in a silken robe, stormed out of the bedroom, chucked the packet of papers into his father's face, turned on his heel, and stalked back in, slamming the door behind him.

The next morning, Bulma woke up to an empty bed. This did not surprise her. It gave her time to think.

"Well, my planet's been completely destroyed, all my friends are dead, all my family is dead, I'm light-years away from anything and everything I've ever known... and I just did it with Vegeta. Life is GOOD! WOOOOO!!"

She then began to sing. Loudly. Off-pitch and out of tune. We'll leave her now.

Vegeta spent the rest of the trip home on the couch in his father's room, keeping as far away from Bulma Briefs as he possibly could. Since she was lost in a fantasy world of sheets and silk and ickle little babies, it wasn't too difficult for him to avoid her successfully.

When they landed on Planet Vegeta, amidst the tumultuous applause of the crowd, Bulma immediately ran off to find a bowl of strawberries and sweet pickles. Two figures emerged from the dispersing population and approached Vegeta, who had his hands in his pockets and was moping quite well. He looked up when the first said, "Vegeta, old buddy, remember Kakarrot? My little brother that I told you all about a while back? This is him."

Vegeta looked at Kakarrot.

Kakarrot looked at Vegeta.

And this, I belive, is where my story ends. 


End file.
